I hung up the phone and faced Desmond. “I’m ready. ”

Boy was that the biggest lie I’d told all night.

Chapter Eight

I followed Desmond up a circular staircase, allowing my mind to drift as we moved towards the upper floors of Lucas’s lair. In the well-tailored dark denim jeans Desmond was wearing, I could appreciate what was on display, and the rear view was definitely worth a good long look. He walked with the self-assured grace that all lycanthropes, myself included, possessed. I often took my own agility for granted but always marveled at it in others. His every step was light and easy; his feet barely touched the stairs. By the time we reached the top step I had almost forgotten what awaited me, I was so mesmerized by his butt.

But there it was, a long hall leading to a large set of open double doors made of a dark wood. The instant I saw them they made me uneasy, because I associated doors like that with bad news. Within I could see the flickering light of a fire. My heart caught in my throat, my mind racing with questions.

“Go ahead,” said Desmond, and then he left me.

I walked down the corridor with halting, heavy footsteps. I was fighting the urge to draw my gun as I entered the room with more than a little apprehension. Calling it a master bedroom would have been such an understatement that I bypassed the word in lieu of more spectacular synonyms. The room was palatial. Its size eclipsed that of my whole apartment, which wasn’t actually a big accomplishment given that I rented a one-bedroom basement suite.

An Olympic swimming pool could fit in there with space to spare. The scope of the suite was overwhelming, and it was just one room of many.

“Welcome,” Lucas greeted me, rising from a large, beautiful and expensive-looking mahogany desk. The room contained a sitting area in front of the fire with two couches, as well as a bed that looked wider than king size, but instead of ushering me to either of them he motioned to the leather cha

ir across from his desk. We both sat.

He wanted me to know this was all business, and I appreciated that. Given the reaction he’d caused in my groin earlier, any place where lying down was an option was not somewhere I wanted to have our conversation.

I didn’t trust myself around him when it came to my more primal urges. I was at obvious risk to giving in to him. I just had to look at him and I knew he could easily have any woman he wanted. He had the charming allure of a man who was accustomed to getting his way.

In spite of all his wealth and responsibility, Lucas Rain had an easy, unaffected smile. His eyes were the color I imagined a noontime sky in August to be—bright, blue and almost cheekily cheerful. If he was burdened by his money, his title or any of life’s daily troubles, it didn’t show.

He had undone a majority of the buttons on his crisp white shirt and was flashing his well-toned chest and abs at me as if it was the most normal way possible to greet a guest.

Werewolves were more at ease with nudity than humans. It must have had something to do with being naked with others at least once a month. Nudity was the sort of pleasure I tended to enjoy alone in bed. Sleeping. Alone. Did I mention the alone part? I didn’t mind being naked, but I also didn’t make it a habit of getting naked around company.

Vampires, regardless of how European a lot of them were in other respects, were more socially proper in situations like these. Although they would boast in private about their centuries of sexual prowess, none would dream of greeting a visitor in such a state of undress. Well, okay, that was a lie. I knew at least one very powerful, old vampire who often wore less than Lucas currently was.

I wished I were more accustomed to seeing men naked because then the beautiful smooth expanse of his chest wouldn’t be so distracting. As it was I felt the tug of desire building and had to look down at my hands. I swear to God I was blushing. How pathetic. The taste of cinnamon was on my lips again, with no reason to be there.

He got down to business. “I’m going to share some things with you tonight I expect you’re not really willing to hear. I apologize in advance if any of it is difficult to understand. You’re the first of our kind I’ve met in a long time who is so unaware of the ways of our people. I’ll try to help you through this the best I can. ”

I stared at him. It sounded like the buildup to a cult initiation. If he was expecting that by my coming here I would agree to join his pack straight off, I had to put that dream out of his head before we began.

“Look, Lucas. Mr. Rain. Your Furry Highness, or whatever it is I’m supposed to call you—”

“For you, Lucas will be more than acceptable. ”

For me? Why was I so special? I momentarily lost my train of thought. “Lucas, then. I appreciate that you thought I was in such need of an education you kidnapped me off the street. ” At this, he smiled. “But I want you to know I only agreed to come here because you left me no other option, not because I want to join your hunting party. I’m not really a team player. And in case you missed it, I’m not the biggest fan of being what I am. ”

He was quiet for a moment, folding his hands with their gloriously long fingers across his taut stomach. My indignation faded as my mind wandered with thoughts of the places and things those fingers could find and do. I blushed more.

“Before you saw me on the street tonight you felt me, is that correct?” he asked.

After a moment’s hesitation I ventured, “Yes. ”

“You felt me specifically, not Dominick or Desmond. When you saw me for the first time you understood right away it was me you felt?”

I thought about it before answering, then again said, “Yes. ”

“What did I taste like?”

“Cinnamon. ” The answer was too quick. I hadn’t thought, I just opened my mouth and out it came. My eyes widened with the horror of what I’d said. Admitting that he’d left such a sweet taste in my mouth felt too intimate to share.

He smiled, leaning forward against his desk, resting his chin on his folded hands. “Very good. ”


Tags: Sierra Dean Secret McQueen Paranormal